New Beginings
by Thlipsi Hartla
Summary: Shortly after the Second Wizarding War Draco has lost everything and Harry finds him and takes him in. Both are lonely and tired of the press, but neither are over the war. How will the Wizarding World react to their slowly developing friendship and later relationship. rating just in case cause I don't know where its going XD warning; swearing, slash, possible violence


Draco met Harry, the irreprehensible Golden Boy, in a back alley of Diagon Alley. Draco blushed at the realization that Harry had seen him sobbing over his predicament, the arm with the Dark Mark outstretched and uncovered. Draco, being known in the Slytherin house not only for his heritage but also his resiliency, wiped his eyes and stood to face the Golden Boy, who seemed to be repulsed by the Dark Mark. In actuality, Harry knew of the horror of the initiation process, and that was causing the anguished expression Draco mistook for disgust, missing the pity in Harry's eyes. Draco pushed back the tears he felt beginning to break the surface again, swallowing with a slight shiver as he tasted the flavour of bile in his mouth.

"What do you want, Potter?" Draco managed to choke out, his voice hoarse from his moment of weakness. Harry hesitated for a moment, his wand hand twitching at his side, before responding.

"To help you…to give you a second chance." The brunet answered honestly. Draco scoffed and rolled his eyes.

"Harry Potter, the Golden Boy, with his hero complex." Harry rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly, disliking the name the press had given him. "You will save me? From what?" The blond asked rhetorically, his voice dripping with sarcasm and malice. "You just defeated the Dark Lord; who is going to harm me now?"

Again, Harry did not respond immediately. "Dementors." Both boys—now men—shivered. "The press." Draco sighed; the brunet was right; they'd be relentless and brutal even if a trial 'proved' him innocent. "Yourself." Harry finished, making Draco scoff again.

"So you're not here to stupefy me and cart me off to Azkaban"

"No," the Gryffindor replied quietly. "I'm here to make sure that won't happen." Draco was suspicious as he noted Harry's offered harbourage.

"Why?" Harry didn't answer the question, much to Draco's annoyance.

"If you just try to trust me, I will do my best to do the same." Perhaps it hadn't occurred to the reckless Gryffindor, but the cunning Slytherin's mind was working in overdrive. If, _if_, Draco were to accept the refuge the Boy-Who-Lived was offering, all hell would break loose. No one would believe Harry would be genuine, taking the Death Eater under his wing purely out of the kindness of his heart; Draco would be accused of casting the Imperious Curse on Harry considering the stigma surrounding his name. Not that Harry would care of what the press thought of him; the Golden Boy himself could never fall out of the press' gilded spotlight. Draco sighed in defeat; he had nothing to lose but his life, and this was his best chance at saving that, despite what the twinge the scar on his chest said.

"Fine, Potter. Save me."

Draco was following Harry through the suburbs of muggle London under the cover of a heavy Dilusement Charm. Harry stopped at the border of two tall grey flats and held out a piece of paper towards where he assumed the blond was. Draco looked at the scrap with mild disgust as he took the wrinkled piece of paper and read the address. Harry did not see the taller boy's face twist into confusion, nor it morph into a look of realization as he looked back up at the buildings, specifically the numbers. Harry trudged forward; he was not exactly exuberant at the idea of spending any more time in the gloom of number 12 Grimmauld Place, especially with the sarcastic arse of the Slytherin. The Heir of Slytherin sighed; bringing Malfoy into his only home might have not been the smartest idea. Not to mention how the Order would react if they found the blond ex-Death Eater roaming their headquarters. Harry stopped in front of the house, waiting for the building to creep from the stonework.

Harry was reminded of his tail as Draco took a sharp intake of breath as the house began to crawl out; he had heard of the Fidelius Charm but had never seen its results. Harry opened the front door with a sigh and stopped inside to flick his wand over his shoulder, hitting the blond with the counter to the charm disguising him. The brunet turned and smirked at the awestruck teen.

"Malfoy!" The Slytherin jerked his head and looked at Harry, almost as a solider snapping to attention. "Move your arse in here before someone hexes you." Draco scurried in with a scowl that only deepened at the sight of Harry's smirk.

"Since when did you care about my welfare, Potter?" Draco barked once inside, blood rushing to both male's cheeks. Harry shot a slight glare at the other boy as he closed the door with a large _shlink_, sealing them in together.

"Since I died and you didn't fight against me after I came back." The defensive tone rang through Harry's statement. Awkward silence hung in the air; their breath formed misty clouds in the cold, damp house. Draco shuffled from foot to foot, having enough conscience to be a bit abashed, but his pride would never let him back down for something as simple as a glare. He stood tall, several inches taller than Harry. Harry looked away first, turning and beginning to shamble down the hallway. He paused and looked over his shoulder as the blond cleared his throat awkwardly.

"You really died that day?" Harry nodded but before Draco could ask anything else the brunet cut him off.

"Would you like some tea?" Harry's false smile didn't fool Draco, but he chose not to press his host; no one would ever accuse a Malfoy of being rude as or with company. Even to his mortal enemy, his polite etiquette would take over.

"Yes please, Earl Grey if you have it." Draco trailed Harry into the kitchen, lost in awe at the grey building. "What is this place?" Draco's curiosity finally got to him as he saw the mounted house-elf heads.

"Number Twelve Grimmauld Place." Harry replied unhelpfully without turning around as he stalked into the kitchen. Draco eagerly took in his surroundings; although he would never admit it, the kitchen was one of his favourite places to be. He loved cooking. Harry though, looked quite the opposite; he looked out of place—awkward and bulky, lacking the finesse the blond had—but he managed. The kitchen was simple but newer. Molly had stared in dismay at the primeval kitchen that was originally there and Harry had gladly given her the money to renovate the room. It made his practically-adoptive mother happy and he let her have free range so the room had a distinctly feminine undertone.

Draco stood in the doorway, fidgeting nervously, an awkward silence hanging in the musty air. Harry seemed on edge as well as he made the tea, but he wasn't staring at Draco like he was a rabid dog, so that was a pleasant change to the blond. Draco assumed the Gryffindor trusted him somewhat, seeing as he had revealed the secret of what the ex-Death Eater assumed was the Golden Boy's house, but he also noted that the boy's wand was never far out of reach.

"So," Draco started, hating the silence, "Why are you risking your neck for me, Potter?" The inquiry was missing the normal malice the blond reserved for Harry, replaced with simple curiosity. Desperate to fill the silence, Draco continued when he wasn't given an answer. "I mean I never really hated you, just…House rivalry and you being stupid perfect Potter…" Draco stopped, realising he was rambling a bit and turned to see if Harry was annoyed. Surprised to see the brunet simply looking at him with interest, the tea simmering beside him, Draco continued. "Then you were an arse and it just kept getting worse and you left me rejected that first year…" Draco scowled, remembering how his father had lectured and scolded him on how he should've befriended the boy, gotten close to him for political gain. "In hindsight, it might not have been the best way to go about it," Draco admitted, a small smile slipping onto Harry's lips. "But I always thought you hated me…" The smile disappeared, but then Draco let his lips curl hopefully. "But this… you are helping me for some reason." Harry let his lip twist slightly; sadness still in his eyes. Then he tossed that morning's Daily Prophet, the smiles falling from both men's faces. Draco gasped as he read the headline.

_Death Eater Trials Begin, Some Still At Large_

Harry set on of the cups of freshly made tea in front of Draco, the aristocratic blond too pissed to notice the quality of the cup. His expression darkened as he read the tabloid rag's article, before tossing the paper on the table. There was no mention of his parents' death, but as the memories surfaced he forced back his tears and slapped on a scowling façade.

"Well there's four Death Eaters they won't have for trials; Mum and Father are gone, and so is Crabbe's father and Greyback." Draco remarked bitterly. Harry was terribly curious but he would let Draco tell him in his own time, thing were tense enough as it was.

"I'll vouch for you…" Harry offered hesitantly. Draco slid out of his brooding to raise an eyebrow at the blushing brunet.

"Why?" Draco sneered, and Harry frowned. Why did he want to save the Slytherin, ex-Death Eater and his mortal enemy for the past seven years? "Why is the great Harry Potter stooping to my level?" Harry sighed, trying to reign in the infamous Potter temper. He tried but did not succeed.

"Because I'm tired of seeing people die!" The sneer fell from Draco's lips. "I'm tired of being a martyr for the Light!" Harry stomped over to the blond, glaring inches from his face. "I'm tired of Dumbledor's greatest success and stalked by the press! I'm tired of having enemies!" Draco's eyes flashed with fear, remembering an incident in a bathroom almost two years ago with a twinge in his chest. Then the stoic front returned and Draco took a sip of tea, glaring right back at the Savoir of the Wizarding World.

"Enemies, Potter? You think this will get rid of your enemies? The Light hates me, the Dark hates me, and everyone will think I have you under the Imperious Curse!" Draco snapped, noting that Harry had begun angrily pacing. "Everyone knows we hate each other you arrogant Gryffindor!"

"We're out of school you pompous brat! Houses don't matter anymore! Why can't we just get along?!" The brunet growled.

"I never wanted to be your enemy!" Draco barked "I offered friendship, but you left me! Why change your mind now, Potter?"

"Because I realised I judged you before I knew you! Maybe you changed since first year, and you deserve a chance!" Harry sighed deeply; ignoring Draco's stunned expression as he took a sip of his tea. "Look, Mal—" Harry stopped and turned to the blond. "Draco. I regret the past seven years, I didn't think about the fact that… that the world isn't divided into Death Eaters and the Light. I understand now that, while he did what was best, Dumbledor brain washed me a bit. But that entire time, every time I accused you of something he told me to not jump to conclusions, and I should've listened. I—I turned into my father as a teen. And I am sorry. I don't expect you to forgive me, nor do I entirely forgive you, but I do hope we can learn to at least accept each other." Harry finished, running a hand through his hair with a sigh. It was during his speech that Draco noticed how tired the brunet looked. Dark shadows surrounded the normally bright emerald eyes, the rest of his skin ashen. His right hand shook slightly and he fidgeted, unable to stay in one place for too long. Soon Harry began pacing again; a victim of war, he had lived in constant danger and now there was nothing. No one would try to duel him, Death Eater and Light alike, after defeating the Dark Lord, and Harry had to spend most of his time inside to avoid the swarming press. Draco decided Harry wasn't over the war yet, and the blond could agree.

"I was a brat, but you of all people should know war changes people, Potter." The blond said with a smirk. Harry snapped attention and slowly turned to look at the blond with his summer green eyes narrowed in suspicion. Draco sighed. "I have nothing…the mansion was destroyed, Mum and Father are d—" Draco's voice caught in his throat and he took a shaky breath to collect himself; he was not going to cry in front the Chosen One. "Gone, so is Vincent, Greg is in a coma and barely sane, Pansy and the rest hate me because they think I left them for the Light and the Light still thinks I am Dark. I have no side, no friends and no family. I have nothing Potter." Draco lifted his head and looked at the brunet with wide tired eyes. "Why do you even care Potter? I'm such a coward I can't even do the world a favour and kill myself!" Draco spat bitterly. To the blond's surprise, Harry abruptly spun Draco around to face him, fixing the taller teen with a deep look. Draco froze, staring into those intense eyes.

"Draco, don't you ever think like that. Is it not brave to keep going, even though we are faced with hardships? Ending it would be simple, easy. But if we keep going, then we have good things too. I've seen the afterlife and even though almost everyone I love is there, I am in no hurry to get there. Because I know that I will be missed here and that I still have life to live." Draco forced himself to look away and sighed.

"See that's the thing, Potter. I wouldn't be missed. I don't have a life to live."

"I'd miss you." Draco looked up at Harry, his eyes sad and sceptical. "I'm serious; I never like to read a book part way through. So finish your tea and I'll show you to your room."


End file.
